Sometimes therapy makes things worse before it makes them better, and that's where I am right now. Stirring things up, confronting feelings I don't want to acknowledge much less feel, working through issues old and new, and trying to have some compassion. Mostly for myself.
I actually have two therapists right now. One specializes in fertility issues, and she's the best therapist I've ever had. The other specializes in food issues (please God let me not be an emotional eater someday), and she's spectacular, too. I'm in good hands... it's just hard and painful and requires a lot of driving to the Westside.
Did I mention the crying?
Lots of crying up in here.
It's particularly annoying because professionally, I'm happier than I've been in quite awhile. I'm absolutely loving my job right now. Everything WP and I are doing is fun and exciting and inspiring. I wake up with ideas and am still scribbling down thoughts when I go to bed at night. There's actual joy in writing.
If I felt even half as good about the life part of my life, I'd be golden.